


Dates and Definitions

by drawingblinds (breathtaken)



Category: History Boys - All Media Types, History Boys - Bennett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-14
Updated: 2007-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:18:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathtaken/pseuds/drawingblinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"He didn't mean anything to the others," Irwin had remarked later, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. "Not really. He showed them he was vulnerable, and he lost their respect."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Like you lost Dakin's?"</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dates and Definitions

Posner wouldn't talk about Hector for a very long time.

Death had placed a certain impermeability around the old schoolmaster, Irwin conceded, but it wasn't just that. Posner's relationship with all those memories was tangled and painful - he could hardly bear to remember sometimes, and yet was unable to forget. Irwin still didn't entirely understand how Posner had been able to put up with _him_ at all, let alone for all this time; perhaps it was the fact that they'd never really liked each other before. Dakin in the way, it would be fair to say. Or wouldn't, because there were some topics Irwin still wouldn't broach. 

But they'd built from the ground up this time; Irwin's only vivid memories of a juvenile voice with its ever-present dictionary definitions, and a young man displaying his burgeoning sexuality in far surer voice than Irwin had ever managed, even now, and asking for something he had been unwilling (unable?) to give.

It had been five months and several days when Posner, curled up on Irwin's couch with the ubiquitous glass of red wine as the latter talked him through his video collection, had unexpectedly remarked as Irwin sorted past The Third Man, "We did that with Mr Hector." Irwin had looked sharply back at him, and slowly, hesitantly, Posner had begun to speak. 

"He didn't mean anything to the others," Irwin had remarked later, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. "Not really. He showed them he was vulnerable, and he lost their respect."

"Like you lost Dakin's?"

The question was cutting and completely out of the blue. Posner's eyes blazed in a wordless accusation, of - Irwin didn't quite know what. Being there at the right time, he supposed, being to Dakin what Posner never could be.

Irwin was slightly hurt, perhaps, but mostly too shocked by Posner's outburst to know quite how to feel. So he replied, truthfully, "I'm not sure I ever had it." Then Posner had apologised, of course, voluble and contrite, and cried a little, and when Irwin had quietened him with murmured platitudes and kissed along his jawline, he'd been able to taste the salt.

Being meretricious was tiring, Irwin had found (and every time he thought the word, he would always hear a young Posner defining it). Especially since he'd become able to walk, just a little, enough to go and pour himself a drink without needing assistance (though now Posner always insisted on doing it for him), or to answer the phone (though it was always Posner's mother on the other end). When he was filming a programme he was always bone-weary just from being intellectual, engaging and slightly sardonic for the sheer volume of takes it took to get anything done, and so when he'd had a moment to relax after that first visit from Posner nearly a year before, he'd felt a little guilty. Posner's behaviour had been inexcusable, of course, but the desperation that must have led the precocious young boy he'd known to an act like that was unimaginable. For the ten minutes that Posner had been on set with him, he'd been a stranger. And he'd asked Irwin to sign his book after Irwin had told him to fuck off, which took some guts. So Irwin had called his production manager and asked him for Posner's phone number.

Subjunctive history indeed. _Subjunctive_ , young Posner said in his mind. _The mood used when something is wished, imagined, possible_. And he hadn't suspected, not at all.

Irwin had taught for three years, and he'd grown. He'd come to understand that he wasn't like Hector at all, and even though he still needed something else, he had a better idea of where to find it. The first few dinners with Posner had been mostly born out of pity, but gradually Irwin had realised that he wanted Posner's need, wanted the younger man to be able to cling to him in the knowledge that no demands would be made (save that he did the cooking). Irwin could still see that inside this vulnerable, timid Posner was a man both brighter than him and far less cynical, and he made it a game within himself to draw this creature out, surprising himself with his own patience. And though he had long been aware of what he felt, he'd been so careful not to upset the delicate foundations they'd laid that it was Posner who'd kissed him first, with a boldness that had shocked Irwin at the time but in hindsight made perfect sense. And from that moment forward, it had always been Posner who'd taken the lead.

It was exactly a week ago that Posner had shifted in his arms, bedsheets bunching up across them, and said, "I thought I might go back to school."

"To university?" Irwin felt almost... humbled by the fact that he still could never predict this man, even now.

"I could do the Open University. Or go to Sheffield," Posner replied, with a hint of humour. "I've... I used to think that university was the Holy Grail. I've realised that it's just another way to study."

"Do you want to study? History?"

"Not history," Posner shook his head. "I know I'm a mess -"

"No! You're not a mess, David!"

Posner gave him a look. "Please. I'm twenty-four years old, I'm unemployed, I've got no prospects or direction and until a few months ago I was living with Mum. And the only thing I can do is quote the Great Queer Poets," he said bitterly. Then his tone became softer. "So maybe that's what I need to do. Poetry. English Literature. Help me work out how to be a useful human being again."

Even though Irwin could look back on his memories as if from the top of a slope, all their experiences spread out before him, he could still not say exactly what had happened. There had been instances of change, of course, and firsts, but the current of _them_ had flowed so freely through that those moments did not stand out at all. It was Posner who had suggested that they didn't really matter, Posner who felt no need to categorise or analyse, just to know that he had a home from which he could face his past and begin to approach his future. Posner whose suitcase was under his... their bed (and he really shouldn't be thinking of him as Posner any more, even privately), and who was slowly, gently implanting in Irwin's mind the possibility of getting a cat. And though he knew it had been two days, and four months before that, and five before that, here, he was learning, dates were not defining. They just were, together. 

_Equilibrium. A state in which opposing forces or influences are balanced; a state of mind._


End file.
